So I’m bumming in Phuket (again) and you’d think the apocolypse has arrived because the clouds are choking up the sky and drenching the island in a torrential downpour, which is pretty much all it’s done since we first arrived four days ago. Every morning since then I’ve woken up, looked out the window facing the villa swimming pool, and seen this.

Yeah, not exactly the tropical seaside paradise I thought I’d be enjoying my last week of vacation before school starts.  But, ah well, there it is.  I gotta say, though, that swimming in the rain is a pretty novel experience.  While everyone else is trying to dash between the drops, you can just go on doing your thing since you’re, well, sopping wet already.

Anyway, the trip hasn’t been a total loss because while we’ve pretty much been bound to the resort, we’ve also had the great fortune of meeting a new friend, the Mad Rabbit, who pens his personal bio as so:

“I was born in lovely France, but was shuffled away to New Orleans as a wee bunny as my mother had fallen in love with a handsome American hare by the name of Hank.  While Hank the hare was indeed very handsome, he was also a philandering bastard, and after a few years of pining, my mother finally hauled my 18 siblings and I to Australia.  After a few blessed years in Oz, we quickly fled the country one night for fear of our lives; those Aussies are heartless rabbit hunters!!!

After a few more years of globe-trotting, I have now wandered from my mother’s warm bosom to sow my royal oats in the heart of Bangkok, Thailand.  Look out ladies — no one can resist the The Mad Rabbit!”

He certainly is quite a character.  We first came across him at the hotel spa, where he was in the process of receiving a full body massage while yapping for everyone to hear about his many travels and “bunny friends.”  Apparently he and Hef are pretty tight.

Anyway, since we were bored stiff and hotel-bound due to the rain, we thought we’d invite him over to the villa for some company.  The first thing he did the second he stepped over the threshold was pretty much take over.

Chatting with his “bunny friends.”
Apparently he has 1,142 of them on his friends list.
Whatever.

Then, as if chatting with them wasn’t enough,
he wanted to TALK to them, too.
Damn rabbit wracked up one hell of a phone bill.
(Don’t worry, I’ve already forwarded it on to his room, mwahaha.)

Then he grabbed (or, rather, clamped on to) the remote,
flipping through the channels until
he came across the Miss Universe pageant,
aka the most demeaning contest ever,
because since when is a woman’s worth based upon
what she looks like in a bikini and evening gown
and how she answers the easiest question EVER?
(Default answer is always:  “For the future of tomorrow’s children.”)
Still, I thought it was pretty insensitive of him and the Mexican audience to
burst out laughing when Miss USA slipped and fell on stage. 
Honestly, some people – er, that is, rabbits – have NO manners at all.

…as seen by his invasion of the villa jacuzzi…

AND the villa’s stash of alcohol…

 
AND MY TOOTHBRUSH!!!
Now, I’d like to think I’m a patient person,
but I had to draw the line at my TOOTHBRUSH.
I mean, hello, no one comes between
a dental student and her toothbrush!!!

Needless to say, the rabbit got the boot after THAT.

P.S.  This post was inspired by the Travelling Gnome of Amélie fame.  Seeing as how I don’t have any gnomes, much less travelling ones, I thought I’d substitute with a rabbit (albeit a mad one). 

~*~

Currently Reading:  Persuasion by Jane Austen, which very nearly manages to knock my fave Austen novel, Pride and Prejudice, off the charts…but just barely.  Can’t believe it took me so long to get around to reading this, especially since I’ve read all of Austen’s other works and also because, well, Captain Wentworth simply rocks (and I swear it has nothing to do with Wentworth Miller being named after him).  Still, as awesome as Captain Wentworth is, I gotta say Mr. Darcy still takes the cake, because seriously, what other literary character can possibly trump Mr. Darcy?  Exactly.  I thought so.

Currently Playing: Siobhan Donaghy’s stunning new album, Ghosts, which is chock full of influences that are as “coolly dramatic as vintage Kate Bush, as vocally ephemeral as the Cocteau Twins’ Elizabeth Fraser, and as electro-dazzling as ‘Ray of Light’-era Madonna.”  Recorded and produced in a centuries-old castle in rural France, this is a sublimely beautiful piece of art and easily the best pop album of the year, even if it’s more left-field pop than generic radio-friendly pop (but that’s what makes it so much more special!). 

From the soaring So You Say, to the haunting landscape of Goldfish, to the epic and yearning Medivac, to the hypnotizing and lush Ghosts and fantastically whirling dervish that is Don’t Give It Up, this album exudes pop sophistication at its very best — it’s classy, dazzling, and brimming over with fear, loss, and hope.  I say this a lot, but this incredibly talented artist is a definite star to look out for, especially in today’s ho-hum music world.  I cannot recommend this album enough.

(Ooh, plus, she wrote 12 Bar Acid Blues while bumming through Thailand, and it really shows; the laid-back guitar twang is the perfect backdrop for spending a week on a tropical Thai island.  Now if only it’d STOP RAINING ALREADY.)